Yule Tide
by april93
Summary: Hermione Granger hopes that her long-time best friend Ron Weasley will ask her to the Yule Ball.  But when he doesn't, Hermione is forced to think about alternatives.  Novella. Hermione's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione sat in the common room doing homework. Just another Thursday evening. Hermione hated Thursdays. Even when she'd gone to her muggle primary school Thursday had been her least favourite day of the week. There was just something about the fact that there was one whole day left in the week. Not that Hermione minded school. It was just the principle of the thing. School meant waking up early, too early for her, and going to class. Also, teachers assigned double the homework they usually did at weekends. Hermione, contrary to whatever Harry and Ron might believe, did not like homework. Who did? She just didn't resent it the same way they did. She did love learning though and learning and homework went hand in hand.

Biting the end of her quill Hermione stared at the last line of calculations for her arithmacy class. arithmancy was Hermione's favourite subject. The number charts and calculations appealed to her logical side. She missed regular old muggle maths though. She'd never tell anyone, but sometimes, for fun she'd do quadratic equations on a quiet Sunday afternoon. When Hermione had been younger she'd struggled with even the most basic maths. One day her father had come home from work to find her sobbing quietly at the kitchen table as she'd tried in vain to finish her homework on fractions. Her father had pulled a chair out and sat down beside her. Staring her in the eyes he told her that there was no way that she could be good at everything. It just wasn't possible or fair. Then he had helped her with her sums. Hermione smiled at the memory.

From that evening on, Hermione and her father would do her maths homework together. Over time she had begun to improve. Slowly at first and then in leaps and bounds. One day it had all just clicked and she'd fallen in love. In maths everything was sure and concrete. Rational and organised unlike so much in the wizarding world. Doing those quadratic equations made her feel closer to her father and her home. She missed her parents dreadfully when she was at school, though she didn't talk about them much. She doubted that Harry or Ron knew either of their first names, simply calling them Mr. and Mrs. Granger. The thought made her sad.

From her bag on the floor Hermione pulled out her charms essay which was due the following day. The essay, which had been assigned on Monday, had been completed earlier in the week, Monday night to be exact. She read through it quickly. Scanning for spelling mistakes of which there was none. Hermione felt eyes on her and turned to see Harry who was craning his neck to look at her roll of parchment. Hermione pulled her paper back towards her chest and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Have you the charms essay done yet Harry?" she asked. He shook his head and sighed, running his hand through his unruly black hair.

"I forgot about it. How many roles of parchment does it have to be?" he said.

"Three." She said looking back at her own work. She continued to read, chewing on the tip of her grey quill absent mindedly. Harry sighed loudly and Hermione looked up.

"Hermione. Can I ask you something?" Hermione bit back a semi snarky comment about how he had already asked her a question.

"How do you ask a girl out?" Harry's cheeks burned red. "Y'know. The Yule Ball. McGonagall said that the champions have to bring dates." Merlin! How Hermione hated the idea of that bloody ball. It reminded her of the awkward preteen discos of her old muggle primary school. Everyone having fun but her. When she'd told her mother this, her mother had wisely said that just because the other kids looked like they were having fun didn't mean they actually were. Laying her essay down on the side of her small sofa, Hermione smiled at him.

"Just be yourself. Besides, I bet all the girls are crawling over eachother to go with a champion." Harry groaned and slid further down on the couch closest to the fire. It was late and the common room was empty.

"Thanks." Harry said his tone sarcastic. "Great advice. It sounds like something Mrs. Weasley would say." Hermione stifled a laugh. It was in fact something that Mrs. Weasley had said. When she'd gave her and Ginny the ominously named 'talk' during the summer. Hermione felt her face heat up as she thought of the humiliation of listening to Mrs. Weasley talking about the difference between lust and love and menstruation. Poor Mrs. Weasly was a little too late though. Hermione had know about the birds and the bees since she was eight and had stumbled across a book on the human reproductive system in the upper school library. Mrs. Weasly's version was quite different though. Gone were the nice, safe, scientific terms. Mrs. Weasley had repeated how no one will buy the cow if they can get the milk for free like a mantra. Hermione inwardly cringed.

"I don't know Harry." Frustrated she continued. "I'm not exactly an expert." She wasn't. Hermione had never even kissed a boy. How pathetic was that? Not very, her rational side told her. Not everyone in her year had been kissed. Well, Harry and Ron hadn't anyway. She'd know if they had, wouldn't she? Of course she would! Besides, Ginny would have told her. Ron was a gossip, so if Harry had kissed anyone he'd have told Ginny who'd tell Hermione. If Ron had kissed a girl he'd have gloated about it for weeks on end. There would've been no shutting him up.

"Sorry." Harry said. "Its just that I want to ask Cho to the ball." Harry refused to meet Hermione's eyes. He scuffed his trainer on the floor as he continued. "But how can I tell if she likes me?"

"You can't." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Great. Where does that leave me? I want to ask her, but what if she says no? Besides, she's always with her friends. Its intimidating!" he whined. Hermione raised her eyebrows at his child like display of complaining.

"Well - " Harry cut her off.

"Its stupid! Girls are stupid! They can't even go to the bloody bathroom without an escort!" he fumed. Hermione chose to ignore his caveman like attitude towards women. Now was not the time or the place for her lecture on the sex discrimination evident so much in modern day Britain. Wizarding world or not.

"It's a confidence thing Harry. Girls travel in packs. It may be stupid but its the way that its done." She shrugged her shoulders pulling her essay back onto her lap.

"But you don't!" Harry said as if what she did or didn't do was the social norm of the rest of Hogwart's female population.

"That's because neither you nor Ron is a girl. Though at times I think that it would be easier if you were." Harry laughed and stood up. He yawned and began to gather up his books.

"Night Hermione."

"Harry," she warned. "That essay is due tomorrow. Professor Flitwick assigned it Monday. You should do it." Harry just laughed again and shook his head. Hermione blew an angry gust of air out of her nostrils. Boys! In particular her boys! Harry and Ron. She loved them both but they could be infuriating. Hermione didn't need to consult her tea leaves to know that Ron wouldn't have done that essay either. She hadn't seen him crack the spine of any of his text books this evening before he'd gone to bed. He could be so frustrating at times! It didn't matter though, she loved him anyway.

She couldn't help but hope that Ron was going to ask her to the Yule Ball. There was still a few days before things got really desperate. She'd tried hinting. Just this morning, she'd discussed the colour of her dress robes, a pretty periwinkle blue, in front of him with Ginny. His eyelids hadn't so much as flickered. He'd just continued to stare at the Ravenclaw table where Fleur de la Cour sat eating French toast. How patriotic of her.

What was so great about Fleur anyway? Harry and Ron both maintained that her veela blood made her more potent to men but really! How could some blood from a distant relative make her that bloody different to say... her! Besides, Ron didn't have a chance in hell with Fleur. He was a fourth year and she was a seventh year. And a Twizard champion. Not to mention a stuck up bitch. Ron was just setting himself up for disappointment.

Sometimes she wondered whether Ron even noticed that she was a girl. She stared down at her admittedly flat chest. Arching her back she pushed her chest out. They weren't that small! Ron obviously though of her as a bland, sexless blob. He must have noticed that she didn't sleep in the boys dorm with him and Harry. Even Ron wasn't that stupid.

Maybe he'd ask her tomorrow. In fact, she was sure he would. He'd realise that she, one of his best friends, was the perfect solution to all of his problems. On the night of the ball he'd be blown away by her new dress, and her sleek hair and straight teeth. Ah, her teeth! Courtesy of Draco Malfoy thank you very much! Her parents were going to be disappointed that she hadn't stuck with her braces. But they had been ridiculous! She was the only student in the entire school with them. Things would have been different if this was a muggle school, but it wasn't. People had stared at her strange, metal filled mouth. Everytime she opened her mouth in front of Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin would dissolve into raucous giggles. She couldn't help but wonder what Ron would think of her transformation.

Would his eyes shine with amazement when he saw her, taking in her satin robes? Would he smile at her when she shyly walked over to him, the tips of his ears turning that adorable shade of pink? Would he tell her that she looked beautiful? Would they dance? Would he kiss her? Hermione sighed. This night could be so perfect. If only he'd ask her.

But what if he didn't. What if he asked Fleur? What if Fleur said yes! She'd feel like such an impostor as Fleur swanned around the room on Ron's arm. Fleur with her pretty French hair and pretty French face. Not so much as one muddy freckle marked her ivory skin. Maybe someone else would ask Hermione. Neville perhaps. Neville was sweet but Ginny had her eye set on an invite from him so that she too could go to the ball. The edges of Hermione's mouth twisted up as she pictured Ginny as the cartoon muggle Cinderella. She would go to the ball! With Neville as her Prince Charming no less!

Ever since she had been small Hermione had loved fairy tales. They made her laugh, cry and had taught her quite a lot about life. Never talk to strangers, wolves or strange wolves (Little Red Riding Hood), don't take apples from creepy old women (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves) and her personal favourite the grass is always greener on the other side. So much greener that you should even be willing to cross a bridge with trolls underneath (The Billy Goats Gruff). Ron and Ginny had laughed when she'd told them the old stories from her childhood during the Christmas holidays last year. They'd sat in Ron's room, drinking hot cocoa and giggling. Ron had fallen over clutching his stomach while Harry and Hermione had quoted the troll from the Billy Goats Gruff: Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin. Besides, Ron had said, trolls don't live under bridges.

Hermione stifled a big yawn and realised that it was probably time for bed. Afterall, there was to be a transfiguration test so she'd have to get up early to study. She stacked her books and shoved them in her bag. The strap strained hard against her shoulder and Hermione vowed, for the thousandth time, that she would work on her muscles. Flicking pages quickly in books could no longer suffice as exercise.

At the bottom of the boys stairs, Hermione noticed a loose piece of parchment sitting on the bottom step. Bending to pick it up she noticed that the parchment was covered in Ron's messy chicken scrawl. She turned it over to see what it was. The charms essay! So he'd done if after all. She felt a slight bit guilty for not believing that he had done it but pushed the niggling feeling aside. Her hypothesis had been based on years worth of data and experimentation. Ron never did his homework unless she nagged him until he was sitting at a quiet table in the corner of the common room, quill in hand.

The stone steps to the girls dormitories were steep and Hermione though of what tomorrow would bring. Maybe Ron would ask her? Maybe someone else would? She almost snorted in derision, as if! Maybe she would ask Ron. She thought of old girl band lyrics and snickered. Girl power. Yeah, right. Hermione knew that she would never, could never, ask Ron to go with her. The embarrassment if he said no would just be too much. He'd tell the twins who would laugh at her from now until the end of forever. And Harry. He'd tell Harry which would be even worse, she could already see the pity that would shine in his understanding green eyes. No, she'd just bide her time and wait. He would ask her. Eventually. Of that she was certain.

**Author's Note: This story will have five chapters of about two thousand words apiece. It will be updated once a week. Review and let me know what you think. The second chapter is done already but I will wait until next Friday to post it.**

**Jen.**


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later and Ron had still yet to ask her. At dinner that evening she'd heard him and Harry discussing all their options. They both agreed that they didn't want to end up stuck with one of the ugly girls in school. Ron was too stupid to realise that, by default, he was including her in that group. Hermione chose not to take offense. She knew that if she'd attempted to correct him that he'd say something like how he meant the girls at school and that comment would hurt even more. Hermione felt like suggesting that Harry and Ron should take their carefully gathered data and enter it into a tidy arithmancy equation. The variables could include cup size, nose length and intelligence. They'd really catch some gems that way!

The library was cold and Hermione pulled the sleeves of her black wool cardigan down further over her hands. She walked through the stack of books looking for a familiar title. Hogwarts, A History. Hermione always returned to Hogwarts, A History when she was feeling low. It reminded her of how lucky she was to be a witch. She shuddered to think what her life would have been like in a muggle comprehensive. She would be the awkward, plain, annoyingly intelligent girl who sat on her own everyday at lunch. Not that everything was amazing at Hogwarts. She'd had her ups and downs here over the years.

During first year she may have had no friends but at least she was in a magical school with moving staircases and magical portraits instead of some dull London comprehensive. Second year; there were no older kids lurking in corridors looking to trip you as you walked by but there was a basilisk. Third year, Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat when she thought of the long and lonely months she had spent on her own feverishly studying. Ron had hated her. Harry had hated her. All over a dead rat and a stupid broom! Hogwarts, A History had been there for her through it all. Always there waiting for her to pick it up and lovingly caress its worn spine.

Hermione scanned the shelf where Hogwarts, A History normally sat and started when she realized that it was missing from its spot. Fourth shelf, fifth in from the left. A thick film of dust had gathered on the wooden shelf where the book usually lay. It had been gone for awhile. Hermione walked over to the large oak desk where the librarian sat.

Madam Pince looked up from the trashy muggle romance novel she'd been reading when Hermione coughed politely.

"Yes dear?" she said setting the book temporarily aside and pushing her small gold framed glasses up her small button nose.

"Sorry to bother you but I was wondering could you tell me if someone has checked out Hogwarts, A History or if it has been misplaced." Madam Pince smiled at the girl. The two were on friendly terms. Madam Pince, like Hermione, loved the library more than any other place in the school.

"Of course dear." She tapped her wand twice on a sheet of paper beside her muttering a quick spell. Her glasses had slipped down her nose again and she pushed them back up. "Viktor Krum checked that book out a fortnight ago." Hermione chewed the inside of her lip, great. When someone had taken a book out for more than two weeks, it generally meant that they would keep it another two. It was an example of Murphy's Law at its finest. It was probably under Krum's bed on the ship gathering dust.

"Thank you." Hermione said and smiled before walking away. She'd just have to make do with another book. Making her way back to the stacks of books, Hermione spotted Viktor Krum. He was sitting at the small table in the corner of the reference section that Hermione like to think of as her table. She'd laid her bag there earlier and set her books out. No one but Harry or Ron ever sat with her while she studied and even their constant whispering and fidgeting proved to be a great distraction. She could just pick up her bag and move to another table. She didn't want to make him feel awkward. And she certainly didn't want to be mistaken for another one of his rabid fans. Really, what was so special about him? Of course, according to Harry and Ron he was the youngest and best seeker in... blah blah blah. When the boys started talking about quidditch Hermione began conjugating Latin verbs in her head.

But he has the book! Her subconscious, in the form of a petulant child, whispered to her. That was true. He had the book that she wanted. He'd had it for two weeks, more than enough to read it at least once. Straightening her back, Hermione walked briskly towards Krum. He looked up at her, his eyes widening slightly. She heard the soft plink of his quill as he dropped it. He looked away from her and quickly picked up the quill once more.

"Hello. My name is Hermione Granger." she said smiling cautiously. "Madam Pince said you have Hogwarts, A History." Krum's dark eyes watched her but he didn't answer. Hermione grew nervous. "Its just that, well, you've had it for two weeks now and I'd really like to read it." He continued to stare. "Read it again." She corrected herself. "Its one of my favourites." Krums eyes lit up.

"You like it?" She nodded emphatically.

"Of course! Didn't you?" He too nodded enthusiastically.

"It was very interesting. Your school has a very rich history." His serious face relaxed into a nice smile. Hermione felt her cheeks start to glow pink as if he had just complimented her and she beamed at him.

"Thank you. It really is amazing." Silence washed over them for a moment before Krum gestured to the seat where Hermione's bag lay.

"My name is Viktor Krum." Hermione resisted the urge to say that she already knew who he was. "I hope that you do not mind my being here." His English, though fluent, was heavily accented.

"Not at all." Hermione said sitting down. She took her arithmancy homework from her bag and spread her sheets out before her. Aware of Viktor's gaze on her she tried to concentrate on the figures before her.

"arithmancy. That is my favourite subject." Surprised, Hermione looked up at him.

"Really? Not many people like it. The classes here are quite small." Viktor moved his head up and down.

"Not everyone can understand it." He smiled and Hermione smiled back. She felt like she'd done an awful lot of smiling since she'd met Krum.

Hermione heard the nervous twitter of pre teen laughter to her left and turned just in time to see two second year Ravenclaw's duck back behind a shelf of books. She turned to Viktor bemused. He flushed crimson.

"These girls here. They are very strange." Hermione held back a giggle. Who would've guessed that the Bulgarian teams world famous seeker would be embarrassed about the attention that he received from girls. Ron, she thought a little scathingly, would love the attention.

"They are." she agreed. They studied in silence. Every so often a page flicked and the nibs of quills scratched across the rough surface of their respective parchment. Hermione finished her arithmancy and moved on to translating a chapter of her ancient runes textbook. It felt just like sitting with Harry or Ron. The familiarity and ease was startling. But unlike when she studied with Harry and Ron, Viktor respected her silence and just worked alongside her, seemingly happy in her silent companionship.

Sometime later she closed her books and began to pack away. Viktor looked up.

"Hermy-own-ninny, you are done working?" Hermy-own-ninny? He stood up too and began to gather his books and assorted rolls of parchment.

"Its Hermione" she said stressing the last few syllables.

"Yes. Hermy-own-ninny." She decided not to correct him again. Hermione was a hard name to pronounce. She herself couldn't say it until she was three, simply referring to herself as 'baby' much to her parents amusement.

"Yes, I'm tired."

"I will walk you back?" It was phrased as a question. Hermione's heart sped up, its rhythm beating like that of a bass guitar. She nodded. As she went to pull her bag onto her shoulder Viktor reached for it. Confused momentarily she let him. He slung her laden bag over his broad shoulder as if it weighed little more than a feather. Outside the library, and free to talk, Viktor became much more open. Volunteering information on his school and family. When they reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the Gryffindor dormitory they paused to continue talking. McGonagall, who was walking by, sent Hermione a stern look that said that she should already be in bed.

"Goodnight." she said turning to walk up the stairs. Viktor caught her arm lightly, stopping her. She turned.

"I almost forgot. The book is out on the boat. I will bring it with me tomorrow. Would you meet me then?" Hermione held back a smile and nodded. She had enjoyed their evening together. Viktor was interesting.

"Okay." Viktor handed her back her bag, which she had forgotten that he had even had, and walked away. Hermione stood still for a moment before letting a large grin spread across her face. Viktor Krum! He was so unlike what she had imagined. Who would've know that the surly, serious, seeker would be so nice. Viktor was smart like her. He may have been an international quidditch player but he hadn't spoken about quidditch once! Unlike Ron who could hardly get through a conversation without some stupid reference to the Chudley Canons. Viktor was so different to anyone else she had ever met. He, unlike the other boys her age, was not afraid to show his intelligence. Not that Viktor was her age, she reminded himself. He was a seventh year. That would make him at least seventeen. She stifled a giggle. What would Ginny say when she told her that not only was she meeting an older man tomorrow night, but that the older man was Viktor Krum! More importantly, what would Ron say?

**Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed last time! XD Jen**


	3. Chapter 3

"He asked you to what?" Ginny exclaimed loudly when Hermione told her that the pair was meeting up so that he could return _Hogwarts: A History_ directly into her competent care.

"It's nothing Ginny," Hermione stressed. "He seems really shy. I don't know how many friends he has here. He's probably lonely." Hermione could relate to that. In third year when neither Ron nor Harry was talking to her she had felt as though she'd never be happy again. Viktor may be a world renowned quidditch player and a triwizard champion but he was still a teenage boy. Both insecure and bad in situations outside of his comfort zone.

"Whatever you say Hermione," Ginny said adding and eye role to her steaming heap of sarcasm. "So," she said and looked a little guilty for asking. "What's he like up close? Is he really handsome?" Hermione thought about it for a second before nodding.

"Yeah, I guess. If you like that sort of thing." Ginny looked disbelieving and Hermione restrained from rolling her own eyes at Ginny.

"Hermione, he's _everyone's _type," she said with a sigh flopping back onto her mattress. Hermione giggled at her melodramatics but shook her head.

"I thought you like Harry?" Hermione asked. She knew this was unfair. Ginny obviously like Harry but he didn't seem to view her in any way other than that of his best friend's little sister. Besides didn't people say you could look and not touch?

"I do," Ginny confessed, "But that doesn't mean that I can't window shop occasionally." Hermione laughed but Ginny wasn't done yet. "It doesn't mean that you can't either you know." Now it was Hermione's turn to blush and avert her eyes. Ginny sat up again dragging a pillow from the top of her bed and cradling it against her chest.

"You know exactly what I mean Hermione Granger. You like my brother." Hermione felt her cheeks begin to redden but she didn't bother trying to deny it. Ginny was her closest female friends and Ron's sister. She shouldn't keep something like this from her.

"I think he likes you too," Ginny said a mischievous tone in her voice she nudged Hermione with her elbow but Hermione didn't nudge her back. Instead she shook her head.

"If he liked me he would have asked me to the Yule Ball by now," she said hating how soft her voice had become

"It's okay Hermione." Ginny's voice was soft and she laid her hand on Hermione's arm. "He's extremely stubborn and pig headed. His heart is telling him one thing but his head is probably tell him that if he tries anything he'll make a mess of it." He _was_ stubborn.

The girls sat in silence for a while and eventually Hermione noticed that Ginny was beginning to yawn so she bade her friend goodnight giving her a hug. An unspoken thank you for the comfort she had just offered.

Downstairs the common room was empty with most students having long gone to bed. Hermione was about to gather her school bag from the window seat where she had left it earlier when she noticed Ron sitting on one of their favourite chairs by the fireplace. He had a chess board set up in front of him and appeared to be battling it out against himself. He turned when he heard her approach and smiled at her.

"Fancy a game?" he asked already anticipating her affirmative answer and began returning the pieces to their original places. She allowed herself to collapse into the squishy red arm chair across from Ron and allowed herself to examine him as he set about organizing the board.

She felt slightly lightheaded like the time she tried some champagne at her cousin's wedding as she watched a small bit of his red hair fall across his forehead. Ginny was right, he really did need a haircut but she liked his hair long. His freckles stood out against his pale skin and she marvelled over the strange, new urge she had to count and celebrate each one.

Ron made the first move, moving a pawn. Hermione mirrored his action and they played in silence. In a shorter time that Hermione would have liked Ron beat her.

"Checkmate," he said with a smug grin which he tried to hide. Hermione groaned loudly and leaned back in her chair rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You are unreasonably good at this game Ron. Next time I get to pick the game." Mentally she pictured herself victorious over him after a game of _Scrabble_. Ron just laughed and began to place the pieces back into their box.

She didn't know what spurred her onwards, maybe it was the late hour or her talk with Ginny but she decided to bring up the dance outright.

"So, Ron," she said trying to keep her tone brusque. "What are your plans for the Yule Ball? Have you asked anyone yet?" Ron's ears grew slightly red but he continued putting away the chess pieces as if he wasn't flustered by what she had just asked him.

"No," he answered. "But I'm going to." Hermione's heart seemed to double in speed and she held her breath. Merlin! He was going to ask her. Ginny was right all along. All he needed was some gentle prodding and he'd get the idea that she wanted him to ask her.

"Yeah?" she said struggling to keep her tone neutral and hoping her excitement didn't show through her voice. "Who's the lucky girl?" But what she really wanted to ask was 'Me?'.

Ron shrugged before continuing. "You'll only laugh at me," he said and Hermione scooted forward to the edge of her seat placing one hand on the coffee table between them wishing desperately it was his hand she was touching.

"I won't Ron," she promised in the soft voice that she only ever used or wanted to use with him. He looked up at her and she smiled as his clear blue eyes locked with hers. This was it. He was going to ask her and everything was going to change…

"Fleur. Fleur delacour." Hermione jumped back as if he had slapped her. Fleur? What?

Hermione couldn't help the red flush that spread up her neck and stained her cheeks. How had she been so naïve and stupid to think that he would take her? He didn't even see her as girl. She was simply his androgynous best friend. Inside her she felt her fantasy of what the Yule Ball would be crumple up and die a fiery death.

"I've got to go to bed," Hermione said sharply standing up. Ron looked up at her seemingly taken aback at the sudden change in her tone.

"Goodnight," he called as she ran up the stone steps to her dorm room barely remembering to bring her school bag. Once she reached the door of her dorm room she paused. Inside she could hear Lavender and Parvati talking and she didn't want to have to listen to their idle chatter when all she wanted to do was wallow in her own despair.

No. She wasn't going to let Ron get to her. She was just going to have to find her own date to the ball. Just because Ron didn't want to go with her didn't mean that no one else didn't. Hogwarts was big enough. Besides she could always ask a student from one of the lower years if need be.

Hermione felt stronger and went into bed confident in her resolve that this time tomorrow she will have successfully snagged a date to the Yule Ball and that date was not under any circumstances going to be Ronald Weasley.

_Okay it has been months since I finished chapter two of this but I recently was flicking through old PC files and I found chapters one and two. I reread them and decided to take up where I left off. Remember review = 3_


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione and Viktor had walked around the lake all afternoon. He had told her about Bulgaria and his school. He had opened up about the pressure he felt to excel in all that he did – a concept that had been engrained in him by his over bearing father. When Hermione had confessed that she had seen him play in the Quidditch World Cup he had grinned and asked what she had thought of the game. He laughed as she shrugged and said that she didn't really like quidditch all that much. He surprised her by telling her that he didn't either.

For a finish she hadn't been surprised when he asked her to attend the ball with him. His loneliness seemed almost palpable and she realised that like Harry and Ron he had difficult talking to girls. Who would have thought that a world renowned quidditch player would have stuttered when he asked her, Hermione Granger, to a ball? It seemed almost like a fairy tale.

She would never admit it out loud but she was pleased that it was Viktor that asked her. Not only was he mature, intelligent and charming in his own way he had the added bonus of being one of Ron's idols. Maybe now she could prove to him that she could be viewed as an object of attraction every so often. Not that, she corrected herself, she would ever want to be known solely for her looks but it didn't hurt every so often to be told that you are pretty.

"Viktor asked me to the ball," she confessed to Ginny and giggled at Ginny's slack jawed reaction.

"As in Viktor _Krum_?" Hermione laughed and nodded feeling flattered yet again that _someone_ had seen her as a girl.

"But how-" Ginny cut herself off holding up a hand. "I thought Ron was going to ask you last night?" Hermione looked down at her lap and plucked a loose thread from her uniform skirt.

"You thought wrong," she said looking up at Ginny and hating the pity that she saw in her friends all t0o familiar blue eyes. "He doesn't know who he's going with yet. But it's not me. Still assessing his _best _options it would seem". She tried to sound nonchalant but Ginny knew better than anyone how much Ron's rejection had hurt her.

"Well," Ginny said reaching over and putting a comforting arm around her friend. We're just going to have to make sure that he realises exactly what it is he is missing out on."

A few days later Hermione was glad that Ron hadn't asked her. She had never realised how shallow he actually was! Heck, Fleur could have him if she wanted. Hermione was just fine without him.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. Of course she would miss him if Fleur got her evil veela tentacles on him. She sat down at her favourite desk in the library and pulled out the worn copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. She tried to focus on the words in front of her but they seemed to swim on the page in front of her. Her concentration broke eventually and she returned to her fumings.

It did not matter. Hermione was going with Viktor and she was going to show Ron who had gotten the better deal here. _She_ hadn't had to ask Harry to secure a date for her. She'd done out and found someone for herself and in the library of all places.

Viktor hadn't asked her as a last resort either. Unlike _some_ people. It had hurt more than she'd ever admit when he had turned to her and asked her would she go with him after his failed attempt at asking Fleur. At the time she had been torn between accepting. For a moment she'd completely forgotten about Viktor. She'd envisioned the expression of surprise on his face when she came down the stairs from the girl's dorms. She imagined them dancing slowly in the Great Hall. It would all be perfect.

Then she had come down from her fantasies and hit reality with a bump. Ron was using her as a last resort. He'd no intention of asking her until all of his options ran out. He was a pig, worse than a pig even.

From now on she was going to allow herself to anticipate the dance without any feelings of guilt. She would let Ginny style her hair and apply her make-up. She'd slip on her dress and go down and greet Viktor. He would tell her that she looked beautiful. They would have intelligent conversations over dinner about the sociological differences between muggle-borns and wizards who were raised with magic. After dinner they would dance and she'd marvel how he didn't step on her toes once. At the end of the night he would walk her back to the stairs in the Entrance Hall and would kiss her goodnight. Everything was going to be perfect. She would make sure of it.

_Sorry for the shorter chapter than usual but this one was more of a filler chapter. One chapter left to go lads! Excited? I am. :) _

_Okay, let me know what you think. I'd especially love to see some critiques. :D_


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